Six of Cups

I feel like I have some explaining to do here. It's probably best to watch the linked video both before and after you read my justification for it --unless you spend some time soaking up the lyrical stylings of O.H. Napier yourself, you'll probably just think I've been out standing in the creek for too long.

The Six of Cups is one of those soft, malleable cards; it seems that everyone who writes about it leaves their own mark on it, which makes it a beautiful card to draw but a difficult one to read. The Cups themselves are a sensitive, tremulous suit that don't handle upheaval or corruption too gracefully; we understand our own emotions so poorly, especially considering how heavily they weigh on us -- when your heart suffers, life itself becomes utterly impossible (as the Five of Cups illustrated so diabolically).

Balance is restored with the Six, which is basically the apex of the suit. It's been said to portend of a return to innocence, the ability to experience pleasure purely despite all of the desensitizing hardships one has borne; it's been attributed to huge creative breakthroughs, and to rocky relationships finally becoming stable. It's been linked to Christ and his brand of flawless compassion, and to other chalice-wielding masters of resurrection such as the Greek Dionysus or the Nordic Balder. All potent icons who whistle (in their melodramatic way) the same tune, Happy Days Are Here Again.

Based on the sheer amount of overlapping interpretations out there, I think it's clear that this card doesn't point to any sort of event or principle that we can put a finger on. It's a surge of radiant potential that diverts one's attention away from one's own suffering and allows one to rediscover the joy of life. The heart, suddenly (and maybe only briefly) unburdened, floats like a cork to the surface of it all and bobs there effortlessly. Why now, and how long will it last? These questions defeat the purpose of their asking -- you should be singing instead.

Back to the subject of our video, O.H. Napier, a man of indeterminate age who plunks his folding stool in the middle of the creek and rips into a melody with almost fearsome ebulliance (perhaps he has been drinking from the Dionysian cup). He jangles his guitar, he fires his pistol, he implores his long-suffering helper to film every glorious thing he's seeing and experiencing as he sings: "I ain't afraid of no man, and I ain't afraid of dyin / because Lord you know you blessed me in my time..." Except it's impossible to capture, of course. His spirit may be contagious, but the true glory of these moments is incredibly difficult to share -- that requires a truly special bond.

Napier's not just clowinging around, he's a man who's known real suffering; in another video he's overwhelmed with the loss of his son, who died in a fire earlier this year. His "Walk On Water" is a fascinating followup -- the clouds have parted, however briefly, and we see a man grateful for his life. The Six of Cups' effects on you may similarly lead to all sorts of interesting personal developments, but I think it's most important to accept that this feeling is not something that you muster, it's something that's given to you. Are you open enough to recognize providence, and wise enough to accept it? [Via]